


Into Temptation

by Pyukumukus



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: Angst, Incest, Other, Psychological Drama, Sexual Content, allusions to sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyukumukus/pseuds/Pyukumukus
Summary: They committed abominable acts in the dark and filled the pitch black void with fantasies.___Yasu faces the reality of a physical relationship with her lover.





	Into Temptation

 

“You’re wearing your clothes again,” he said, and Beatrice nearly cuffed the silhouette looming over her.

 

“The Golden Witch doesn't bear her breasts to just any man, Battler,” Her tone was terse. She hoped it would deter his questions. “My body possesses divinity which transcends that of a mortal woman.” 

 

“Is… is there really a trial I have to pass to see you naked?”

 

“Nnng…” She wiggled underneath him, gritting her teeth. It felt as if she were being interrogated. Her face flushed and she felt her heart beat faster as she thought of a response. “Revive me. Cross the river Styx and drag my body from the depths of Hell,” she said. “Then, you will be worthy of tasting my naked flesh.”

 

She could imagine him frowning, although she couldn't see his face in the inky blackness of the room. There was a strip of sunlight on the floor from a gap in the curtains, but the light didn't reach them-- thank god. It formed an umbra around Battler's head. The rest of his face was cast in shadow. 

 

That was the price of indulging in fantasy-- she would never see his face twisting in pleasure because they always slept together in the dark. It was only there that she was beautiful.

 

Her face contorted and aligned with features transplanted from paintings. She was picturesque-- the height of feminine beauty. She lay on a blanket of ginger hair he felt with his fingers as they kissed, running his hands through it before brushing over her bust. Her groped her. She pretended to squeal. He laughed. “Beato~ you feel bigger and bouncier than last time.” She acted like it was funny and not some farce. Could he tell with his palms what he squeezed was a generous brassier filled with cotton instead of flesh? Beatrice didn't want to know. She could just barely feel him rub her chest.

 

She draped her arms around his neck. “I’ve eagerly awaited your return, Battler. Try not to disappoint me.” 

 

“Your standards are crazy! Don’t turn me into a toad if I don't live up to your dreams.”

 

“Hoh.” Beatrice lay back. “You say you haunt my fantasies? How presumptuous.” It was the truth, but she wouldn't dare say it.

 

He giggled in the dark. She could feel the heat of his breath against her face and his member against her thigh. She tried to steady her hammering heart, but it was impossible-- useless as he would say. Yeah, useless. Even though he whispered sweet words into her ear, she never heard them. It was a conversation between himself and Beatrice. Her body was only a means of communication. 

 

They were two adults touching each other’s wounds. It hurt, in a good way. And, she needed this from him-- his attention, his approval. She needed it like she needed air, and she invited him into her bedroom every year. They committed some abominable acts in the dark and filled the pitch black void with fantasies.

 

_ You speak of love, but rip away my dreams. Violate me, why don’t you strip away my clothing and expose my lies. _

 

_ I hate you. _

 

“D-did you say something?” he asked. His voice was laced with pain, and Beatrice felt the black witch rise to her throat. Of all the nasty, vile things she could say to him, she only grunted and lay back. 

 

“I asked you to keep going.”

 

Battler’s movements were methodical and formulaic, and she hated him for spoiling everything. He ruined the mood, and her body was cold, and the pleasant warmth in her gut had been replaced with anxiety. 

 

_ Butterflies in your stomach, Fuuurniture?  _

 

_ Shut up shut up shut up shut up… _

 

_ “ _ Are you ready?” he asked. 

 

“Of course,” she snapped. “Do you want me to wait another thirty years?”

 

Battler compiled at that. Beatrice knew men were hapless creatures, but it had taken her centuries to realize how cruel they could be, how much their words could twist wedges into the most powerful of witches. He struggled to enter her, but she didn't mind because she didn't expect much from mortals. He was a good boy, a sweet boy, but he was hopeless, especially in bed, where his inexperience caused him to be more hesitant than she liked. She didn't know why he couldn't take her roughly-- weren't men supposed to assert themselves…? She loved George because he was gentle, but she wanted Battler more because he was brazen. 

 

_ I thought you hated virgins. _ She thought, bitterly.  _ You left me for six years, and didn't learn a thing, did you?  _

 

_ Well, I'm well prepared Baaattler. A thousand year old witch has used both men and women to satisfy her desires. She is well versed inside and outside of the bedroom and knows all human pleasures.  _

 

Her heart was hardened and golden, and it didn't matter that he only slid so smoothly because she was slick with oil and not… and not…

 

Beatrice was familiar with the anatomy of normal people, so she knew exactly what was wrong, why they were joined at that angle. She felt his arousal inside of her, and they fell into that familiar, awkward rhythm where no one spoke and he didn't touch her except in the places she had granted him permission to touch. His hands were firmly planted on her hips, but that was no good, was it? Because Beatrice had generous curves, and she was thin and boyish. She told him to grip her shoulders, and he followed her instructions because he was obedient in bed, servile in bed, nothing but a toy to satiate her masochistic tendencies. 

 

_ Incompetent man. Incompetent at love. I'm thoroughly disappointed!!! Are you really Kinzo's grandchild…? _

 

It hurt, just a little bit, and she was glad. It was an emotional pain, really, like a stake driven through the body of a witch. She guessed Beatrice must be used to this-- denial. She denied herself, her own existence. She felt full and empty at the same time, as if he thrusted inside her body but never reached her heart.

 

“Hah-harder.” 

 

It pained her; loving him was agonizing, and sex with him was torture. 

 

Hadn't Kinzo taught her that? He  _ ruined _ her and smashed her and shattered her. He chained her to this fate she didn't want and released himself from this world as she slowly died inside. Kinzo… this was Kinzo's sin, wasn't it? Her heart was bruising, but there were waves of pleasure rolling through her body she couldn't deny. She felt like a devil burning up on this bed, like a damn succubi. How fitting for a witch who tempted this stupid man into abandoning morality to love Beatrice through her. 

 

It hurt. It really. Hurt her. Inside. 

 

She shuddered, violently, shivering from her head to her toes, moaning, making some indecent, hellacious noises which made her want to vomit over his back when he pulled her close. He held her as if she would shatter, and that too hurt. 

 

_ Even if you stuck me full of wedges like a pin cushion doll, you could never kill me, Battler. I am the great Golden and Endless Witch, and you are a mere man. _

 

\---

 

When he pulled out of her, all of her muscles were trembling, and she was rigid around him, arms locked in a ring around his neck. Battler hadn’t finished. Did that matter…? His blood ran thick, and he felt numb from the oppressive chill that settled over the room. Desperately, he pawed the wall for the light switch. 

 

When he flicked it on, Sayo was prone underneath him. Her head was twisted to the side, and big, fat tears dribbled down her cheeks. The illusion was shattered. His lover put up no resistance as he crawled off of her and went to stand. 

 

Battler felt dizzy. He almost passed out when his feet hit the ground. 

 

She sobbed behind him, and he did nothing. That was what he was good at, doing  _ nothing _ .

 

He remembered her familiar words _ , Ushiromiya Battler, you… are…. Incooompetent!!!  _

 

With a swallow that pained him-- because his throat was so dry-- he croaked, “This is the last time.”

 

\-------

 

_ It wasn't. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
